


Changes

by PaleBlueEyes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleBlueEyes/pseuds/PaleBlueEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time passes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes

**Author's Note:**

> I've no idea where this came from, I woke up with most of it in my head this morning. Think I'm just in the mood for happy endings...

Soft violin music wakes John from a sound sleep. It’s late, or possibly early; he doesn’t bother squinting at the bedside clock, but it’s dark outside and the lack of traffic noise suggests small hours rather than winter morning.

Yesterday had been a long and slightly odd sort of day (and night) but John feels remarkably well rested. Sherlock had dragged him from pillar to post across London, barely giving him time to think, and they were sitting in a restaurant in Northumberland Street (sadly no longer Angelo’s) before it finally dawned on him. ‘You’re recreating our first case,’ he had blurted, ‘the pink lady.’ and his brilliant git had just smirked at him.

He hadn’t expected Sherlock to remember, but there it was, twenty years to the day since a tired, broken soldier had limped into a lab at Barts and met the man who would change his life. And here they were, twenty years on, sitting eating fettuccine alfredo at the scene of that glorious, exhilarating first chase.

John grins to himself in the darkness and stretches luxuriantly. Maybe there wasn’t quite so much sprinting after taxi cabs and across rooftops these days, but all in all they’ve both worn pretty well. Okay, he might be carrying a few extra pounds round the waist (even Sherlock’s lanky frame has gained some padding), and the reading glasses are more of a necessity, but even so…

There have been other changes, of course. Cases from the Met are few and far between since Greg retired five years ago; department politics get in the way too often to allow for semi-official consultants, and they’ve never exactly been flavour of the month with newly promoted Assistant Commissioner Donovan. Private cases more than make up for it though, and there’s always the occasional government work to fill in the gaps.

Mycroft is… still utterly Mycroft. Some things never change.

Mrs Hudson is no longer at Baker Street, and they feel her absence every day. She's frail now, but still sharp as a tack, and the undisputed queen of her retirement home in Maidstone. She thoroughly enjoys the reflected glory and excited twittering of the other residents when her famous adopted sons come to visit.

Molly has swapped the morgue at Barts for a large farmhouse near Gloucester and a husband who thankfully looks nothing like Sherlock. She’s currently raising children and kittens and some kind of heritage pedigree pig breed. She explained precisely what kind and why at length the last time she visited, looking so happy and content with life that not even Sherlock had the heart to interrupt – well, not too much anyway.

The music has stopped. John pulls on a dressing gown and pads into the living room. Sherlock has abandoned his violin and instead stands over at the window, looking out into the quiet street beyond.

There is of course one other change, the best one. ‘Twenty years,’ says John. ‘Come back to bed.’ And Sherlock does.


End file.
